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We trade blows and grapple for dominance a handful more times, each exchange ending with me down in the dirt, teeth gritted in bitter frustration. My muscles ache, but the sting of failure keeps me going.
“Come on, Fletcher,” Lyssa sighs, not even breathing hard. “You’re leaving openings all over the place. If this was live combat you’d be in the morgue right about now.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I snap. “You’re not the one sleeping in a damn barn.”
She takes a closer look at me. “Let’s call it for now,” she says. “Come and eat something. You need to build up some muscle mass, Stringbean.” We lapse into uneasy silence for several long moments, Lyssa moves to the bag again, retrieving an insulated cooler.
“Here,” she says, tossing me a chilled protein drink which I fumble to catch. “Refuel. We’ve still got a ways to go tonight.”
“Yum,” I say sarcastically.
“I couldn’t fit the barbecue pork ribs and Wagyu steak in the bag.”
My stomach rumbles at the idea, even though she’s just being a bitch. It’s loud enough that she does a double take at me. “Seriously, Scar,” she says, pulling out a few more sandwiches now and passing it to me. “You need to keep up your strength. Literally.”
Another lengthy pause stretches as we eat. I sneak sidelong glances at her, searching for any sign of what might be going on with her.
I want to ask. Want to ask questions she won’t answer, about what she’d do if I went to Hadria Imperioli and announced that reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.
And I wonder how things are going after the move back to Elysium, whether she’s settled in, what it’s like out there…
When her gaze finally drifts my way, I blurt without thinking, “Is Mrs. Graves alright?”
Lyssa blinks at the non-sequitur.
“You mentioned once that she was…pissed at you.”
She shifts on her feet. “Did I?” she asks vaguely. “Well, she’s…we’re good again. Made our peace, for what it’s worth.”
“I really am sorry, you know? For taking her, threatening her life like that.” Shame makes me want to look away, but I force myself to look Lyssa in the eye as I add, “And…I’m sorry for killing Yuri. And those other guys, Torres and Brassi.”
Lyssa is staring at me, sandwich half-raised to her mouth.
My voice comes to a halt as the full tide of self-loathing finally crashes over the emotional dams I’ve erected over the last five years in a desperate bid to keep functioning.
“I’m sorry I’m a monster,” I choke in an anguished whisper, hugging myself against the spasms of grief and revulsion racking my body. “I’ve done terrible, unforgivable things and ruined so many lives. I-I know I deserve to die for my crimes, for the blood I’ve spilled?—”
I choke off into sobs, unable to stop myself.
I gave in to darkness, sought it out, and there’s no redemption from those choices.
I collapse to the ground, face in my hands, and just when I’m certain Lyssa will simply leave me to drown in my breakdown, she sits down next to me and gathers me into her arms, her thighs bracketing me too in an unmistakable embrace. I can only tremble against her, feel her chin tucking over my head protectively as I cry it all out.
And she lets me.
I crumple against her chest, fisting the worn cotton of her top as I unravel. Grief and remorse crash over me as Lyssa simply holds me, her presence the only anchor in a howling squall.
I’m not sure how long I cry, but eventually I collect myself enough to draw back a little, scrubbing at my wet face with mortification.
“Sorry,” I sniffle. “Sorry, I…shit, I’ll get it together for the mission, I promise?—”
“Shh.” Lyssa’s soft hush cuts me off as one of her knuckles traces the curve of my cheek. I suck in a sharp breath as she looks my face over.
For one dizzying moment, I think she’s going to…do something. Her eyes are heavy with some unreadable emotion, her face coming closer and closer to mine until we’re sharing the same airspace, mouths a hairsbreadth apart, just…hovering.
But then the spell breaks, tension dissipating as swiftly as it coalesced. Lyssa releases a low, shuddering breath and draws back, the shutters slamming down over her eyes once more.
“Let’s forget about training tonight. Going to the high-rise was tough on you. You should get some rest.” She rises to her feet and heads for the door, grabbing her leather jacket along the way. She pauses, hand on the door, to cast one last look over her shoulder. “We’ve got a lot of work to do in the coming days. Johnny will have something for us soon enough.”
